


A Day in the Life

by LuuuCifer



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuuuCifer/pseuds/LuuuCifer
Summary: Set post-war, Whisperers are finally gone. Carol and Daryl are making the most of their new lives together with the handful of kids they've collected.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Their bodies uncoupled with an aching and equal sense of both loss satisfaction. She lowered herself to the bed languidly, tucking into his side, left leg trailing behind in her dismount and brushed, ever so gently past his most sensitive of areas, eliciting a reflexive flinch.

"Oof!" the surprised sound sprung from him, his arm reaching down to fend off any other unintentional attacks.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" her hushed, breathless voice carried a bubble of delirious laughter right into his ear causing him to huff out a slightly pained laugh as well.

"Coulda jus' told me it was bad. Don't gotta go ripping' off," he chuckled, teasing her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer. Her mischievous yet repentant giggle was warm against his cheek as she planned soft, apologetic kisses into the scuff there.

"I'm sorry," she soothed through a smile, melting into him and fanning her left hand across his bare chest. They were silent for a beat, catching their breath together as they gazed lazily at the ceiling as if it was a great, open night sky. She hummed, contentedly against his skin and that devilish laugh percolate to the surface again.

"Maybe if it wasn't so big I'd-"

"Jesus Christ, Carol," he found himself laughing in earnest now as the capillaries in his cheeks bloomed a rosy red. She could be deliciously dirty sometimes. He'd known for years she had a bit of a sinful streak to her humor, as she'd teased him mercilessly for the better part of a decade. He often wondered if, even though she never admitted it, she'd always known how she wound him up. He wouldn't put it past her. Her poker face was unlike any other and he was too much of a self-described 'wimp' when it came to bringing stuff like that up to her. He untangled his feet from the linen that pooled at the foot of the bed, kicking them towards his hands so he could draw them over his head in exaggerated embarrassment. The action drew a little snort of laughter from her and it caused his chest to heave, deepening his chuckle. They were both nearing their fifties, now, but God, she made him feel like a fucking teenager in the absolute best way.

"Shhh, no!" she squeaked, attempting to burying her face into his back as he turned away from her, "You're gonna wake the kids!"

"Well, s'damn near time to get up, anyway." He breathed, lopsided grin quieting the remainder of his laugh. She threw her arm around his back and shoulder, pulling herself up and peeling the sheet away from his head so she could bury her face into his hair. She groaned into his ear but he could still hear a soft smile behind it. He reached for her hand, drawing it up to plant a kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh, don't remind me. I have a lot of stuff to do today," she lamented, "Give me a few minutes. I'll get up and make breakfast."

"Nah," he sighed, lifting himself from the mattress to sit up. Carol's arm fell to drape across his lap with the thin bedclothes, "You hang out. Ya cooked all day yesterday. I'll get breakfast goin'. I ain't doin' much today."

He stretched his arms out, pulling each across his body in succession in order to loosen up his weary muscles. He rocked his head from sided to side until he got a few of the desired pops and cracks from his spine. He rolled his head toward her, and looked down to see an almost incredulous expression on her features. She pulled her weight back and sat up on her arm.

"Daryl Dixon is taking a day off?" she asked sarcastically. He found himself momentarily entranced by her. Her gentle, silver waves caressed their way down her shoulders and across her freckled chest. He smiled at her, taking up the sheet and opening it up to cover her bare breasts. Her body was as a holy alter at which he could spend forever worshipping, but at the same time, it was too much. Like a staring contest with the midday sun. He felt overpowered by how beautiful he found every cell of her skin and, more for his sake than hers, sometimes would shield himself from it. She smiled and rolled her eyes at his action. He assumed she felt it was always an attempt at offering her some long lost modesty. And while, yes, perhaps at his heart, he was being a shy, polite little southern boy; a Baptist root of two left to wrap its way around his brain. But mostly it was just because she was just too much for him to take in sometimes.

He shook his head, reluctantly pulling his smiling eyes away, dipping to retrieve his pants from his side of the bed.

"I was thinkin' 'bout-"

He stopped himself as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. His idea rendered him hesitant, suddenly. He'd had every intention of bringing it up to her last night, but it had quickly gotten lost in the tangle of limbs and lips and gasps. He winced, feeling now like he'd overstepped some unspoken boundary of their still fairly new relationship. He felt her weight shift behind him on the bed as she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest and he cursed himself internally for not bringing this up sooner. He felt her hand skim across his back, a gentle nudge. A 'spit it out'. He turned back to her and met her soft, questioning eyes.

"I ain't been stayin' downstairs for a while," he led with a probative, noncommittal shrug, chewing at his lip nervously in the pause between sentences "Lydia deserves a room of her own. Judith can have her room back, yanno?"

Carol smiled, and for a fleeting moment Daryl felt himself begin to panic. The part of his brain that always told him he wasn't good enough poked its head up out of the burrow just below the surface. That part of his mind whispering to him that she was laughing at him for even considering he asked such a thing. But then her eyes pulled him back in and grounded him. He shook it off. He was getting a little better about that, recently.

"Yeah," She murmured, agreeing with him, "The girls should have their own rooms."

"Yeah?" He confirmed. She nodded, laying back and stretching out across the bed. The corner of his lips tugged upwards a bit and he nodded to himself. He turned to stand, pulling his pants on and doing up the belt, still smiling a but when he looked her over again.

"I'll uh, Bring my stuff up. Bring her bed down there...Make it nice for her," he explained as he reached down for his shirt, shaking it right-side-in, and pulling it over his head so he could pop his arms though the sleeves. He shook his hair out if the neck of his shirt like a dog, causing her to giggle again.

"Yea, that'll be nice. There's plenty of room."

He nodded shyly at her, shaking the shag out of his face again. He moved to crawl back onto the bed, stretching across to plant a kiss to her forehead. He reached up, gently wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and guided his lips back to her own. They met sweetly, softly. His stomach jump roped itself when she deepened it by throwing he other arm over his shoulder.

...Until a deep, insistent, and very loud scratch caused them both to startle out of their embrace.

Carol sighed and rolled her eyes back open. Daryl looked down right into them and felt himself grunt in disappointment at the loss.

"I'll let 'em out," he growled, hanging his head and pushing himself up, "You want some eggs?

She rolled over onto her stomach and stretched again, nodding and yawning, "Yeah, eggs sound good. Good luck getting RJ to eat them again, though."

"Gonna have to learn sooner or later to eat what's in fron'na him. I'll see ya downstairs."

He grabbed his boots from the floor and turned, feet bare, quietly slapping on the dark wood floor boards as he walked to the door. He turned the knob and the weight of the animal on the other side caused the door to almost implode towards him. After a blue streak of profanity, he was able to get the excited, bounding Dog out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to let him outside. He grabbed he door and flung it open, letting the dog out into the street of the gated community. That Dog was an early riser, just like he was. He'd be back when he was done making his morning rounds.

Daryl closed the door and turned, tossing his heavy boots to the floor before hastily shoving his naked feet into them, missing the feel of the rug on his skin the second they became encased in their leather and rubber prisons. Up until the last few weeks, he'd never felt safe or secure enough to spend any amount of time outside a shower barefoot. But since the war with the Whisperers had ended, although things had been stressful and in need of repair and restructuring, were feeling safer than they ever had. And while, realistically, he knew safety was and always would be fleeting in this world, his newfound sense of home had him feeling like padding around the house shoeless would be okay, from time to time at least.

He finished tying a few sloppy knots in the laces before standing to full height and heading down the hall to the kitchen so he could get the day going.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy! I guess it *is* gonna end up a series, after all. That didn't take much time, huh? Don't get too used to it, though. This chapter is Carol's POV and is SOAKED in domesticity. Next will prob Daryl's. 
> 
> Characters, not mine. Something, something. Copyright infringement is what I'm actively trying to avoid, y'all.

Dèjá Vu is a mighty powerful thing to experience. Most people only really ever experienced a handful of true episodes of it in their lives. The kind that robbed you of your breath and stilled you, mid-step. Even then, most people couldn't connect the when, or why, or how with what they were experiencing, much less physically touch the scene, smell, taste, and heard it as it played out in front of their eyes. Carol on the other hand, had found the hazy dreamlike hues, scent of sizzling cured meat, and the sounds of walnut dining chairs scooting across cherry wood floors swirling together to paint a vivid picture of her dreams almost every day for the last two months, now.

The only difference now was that, more often than not, she'd meet Lydia on the way down the stairs, or find herself knocking on the bathroom door, only to have RJ exiting with homemade baking soda toothpaste crusted around his mouth. Still, some days, part of her heart still expected to turn that corner into the kitchen and see Henry reading a well-loved paperback novel at the breakfast table instead of sweet Judith, campaign hat atop her head. Her heart would seize with a pang of sadness until she'd look past the table to see Daryl perched atop the kitchen island sipping coffee so strong it's almost undrinkable or washing dishes in the sink. She missed her boy with her whole heart, but seeing Daryl like that was a salve on that deep burning pain. 

This morning, hair still damp from her shower, she rounded the banister and walked through the living room and into the kitchen to find Daryl serving all three of the kids piping hot eggs from the pan. He looked up and met her eyes, shooting her a muted smile.

"Hey, Aunt Carol," Judith called as she made her way to the table. She returned the greeting to Judith as well as RJ and Lydia and took her seat. 

"Mornin'," Daryl welcomed her, gesturing with a nod to a mug of coffee sitting in front of her. Oh, that coffee. The man was sweet enough, himself, to make that mud he made palatable. 

Well, almost.

Still, she was beyond grateful to him for going out of his way for trying. She reached for the jar of beet sugar, spooning a big scoop of it into her cup before following it with some milk and stirring it together. 

"How'd everyone sleep?" She asked, taking the first, bitter sip and smiling around it. Daryl came up next to her and slid some of the eggs onto the plate sitting before her and she thanked him as she reached for a slice of bread. 

"Why do we have to have eggs again?" RJ piped up as expected, "I don't like eggs."

She watched Daryl's smile dissipated as his lips flattened into a thin of mild frustration. He reached to the middle of the table to set the frying pan down on a potholder.

"Well, man, it's what I made. You gotta stop bein' so picky. One day we might not have nothin' but eggs," Daryl groused. She watched the little boy scrunch his face up at the thought of being relegated to consuming nothing but scrambled eggs, probably forever. The kid picked up his spoon and let the pale yellow, homogenized eggs rain back down onto the plate, causing them to splatter. 

"They're all drippy," the child whined, repeating the action with a second spoonful, making the mess bigger.

"RJ, stop," Judith sighed.  
"Hey," Daryl corrected, reaching to remove the plate, "Quit playin' with it. I'll getchu applesauce then."

Daryl set the plate down at his own place at the table before turning away to retrieve a mason jar full of applesauce. Carol finished applying the rich mixture of silken eggs and butter to the bread and took a bite, savoring it, smiling in RJ's direction. 

"You know," she offered around the delicate bite of food, "The way your Uncle makes eggs used to be considered a delicacy, before the turn." 

"Really, Daryl?" Lydia asked as she took another bite. Lydia was, very thankfully, the absolute opposite of how RJ was about food. She wasn't the slightest but picky. Carol knew some of that came with age, but a great deal of it came from the fact that she'd spent the vast majority of her life on the run, eating things from cans, worms and bugs, or at best, charred dead animals. For the first few days that Carol had cooked meals for her, the kid about looked like she would cry. Home cooked meals of all flavors and textures fascinated the hell out of the girl and she'd even started asking Carol to teach her how to cook, which delighted her.

Daryl huffed out a quiet laugh as he sat back down and began to spoon the applesauce into a mug for the kid. Carol turned to him, cocking an eyebrow.

"What, you didn't know that?" She asked around another bite. He paused as he slid RJ's mug down to him and the kid reached over to eagerly pull it the rest of the way. 

"Yer serious?" He asked, genuinely, as he scooped a massive spoonful into his own mouth. Some escaped from the spoon and dropped into the graying hairs on his chin. She stifled a laugh so as to not make him self conscious, and reached over to wipe it away with her thumb. He chased her thumb with the back of his wrist, swallowing his food with an apologetic gulp. She turned back to the kids, reaching for her mug and raised her eyebrows over her sip. 

"Yeah, French Scrambled Eggs. You don't believe me, check the cookbooks on the shelf." 

Daryl's elbows came to plant upon the table top at either side of his dish. She watched as he hunched back over his plate, shrugging sheepishly as he gathered up another overfull bite. He looked a cross between impressed with himself and embarrassed. There were things, Carol realized, that were parts of Daryl that endeared him to her years ago that were once a rare flicker of light in that fog of anger and yelling. The permanence of his humble nature was one of those things. Those things shone brightly nowadays, making her heart swell regularly.

"Didn't know. Just like eggs this way," he chewed, sticking his thumb in his mouth to lick another stray morsel of this or that off it, "Rubber eggs taste like shit."

"I like how you make eggs for us," Judith sweetly reassured, reading her uncle like a book. It earned her a crooked grin. Lydia agreed wordlessly around a mouthful, as she grabbed for her glass of cider. Carol noted to herself that she was impressed that the girl's table manners were improving. She used to eat like Daryl. 

"Good. Now talk to that guy about the eggs," Daryl challenged Judith as he pointed to RJ in joking accusation. The little boy laughed at his uncle as the spoon hung from his mouth & Judith lifted her hands in mock surrender. An 'I'm not getting involved!' gesture. The interaction tickled Carol to watch.

A sharp bark broke the conversation. Dog had apparently finished up his morning tour of Alexandria and was looking to come in and get a meal of his own. She felt Daryl shift in his seat, about to get up. She reached her right hand out to his forearm to still him as she dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin that had been set out for her. 

"I'll let him in. You sit," she said as she shook her head. She rose from her seat and laid a hand to Daryl's shoulder as she passed him, assuring him it was okay for him to sit and eat for a moment. She exited the dining area, listening to as the chirpy voices of the kids continued to carry the conversation. She reached the door, pulling it open and a winter chill was carried in on Dog's back as the lively animal bounded into the kitchen to greet everyone. She followed, going to the refrigerator to pull a large bowl of scraps from various meats and vegetables out. She grabbed a handful. Some chicken feet and a rabbit head with a few other trimmings and spare parts. She plopped them into the steel bowl in the corner and Dog set to devouring it immediately. 

"Can Dog come with us today?" Judith asked both adults. Carol finished replacing the food in the fridge and closed the door with her foot. Daryl looked to her, clearly unsure of what he should say. 

"I think you guys should be concentrating on your studies rather than Dog," she responded as she turned the sink on to wash her hands before rejoining the table. The answer wasn't necessarily well received, but there wasn't much fuss. The kids knew they were fair in their arguments and rarely gave either of them much push back. She turned the sink off and walked back to the table.

"We gotta get going to get Herschel soon," Lydia offered to the room before taking the final bite of her food. Daryl shook his head, unable to speak around the massive mouth of eggs and bread. He swallowed half, enough to speak around. 

"Need ya here today," he said simply. Lydia quirked an eyebrow as she wiped at her mouth. 

"I thought you said the weather would be too shitty to hunt today?" She asked, seeking explanation. Daryl had been taking her out, more and more, teaching her how to hunt and track. Lydia already had a good base of skills, as Daryl had said. She knew how to be quiet and she had a sharp eye. She was getting good. It made Carol feel better about him going out there with someone capable able to watch his back. 

"It is," Daryl clarified, "I need ya to help me move some stuff. Yer gettin' yer own room."

"She's moving into Mommy's room?" RJ piped up, unsure. Carol saw a bit of fear in his eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was give the kid the impression that Michonne wasn't coming home. Not when they had no evidence that she wasn't. As far as they knew, she was out there, building bridges with other communities for the sake of their futures. She'd be home when she was able to come back. 

"No, honey," Carol explained, " No, no. She'll be moving into Daryl's room."

Carol saw panic flash across Judith's face. Daryl had told her a while ago about a conversation he'd had with her. With her mother gone Judith was understandably worried that Daryl would leave her, too. She couldn't blame her. 

"Where are you moving to?!" Judith all but crowed. Daryl was about to open his mouth to soothe the child's worried mind when...

"Carol's room," Lydia answered without missing a beat, "Right?"

There was a pause. Carol noticed Daryl's profile. His expression indicated that he was either about to choke to death on his food or give birth. Carol would have laughed had she not been so taken aback. They never gave the kids any indication that their relationship had taken a turn in a different direction. Daryl wasn't much for public displays and they both felt, with everything that had gone on in the last few months, everyone had experienced enough change recently without them adding to it. They didn't intend to keep their current status from them, necessarily, but they also hadn't planned on making a big about it. She kind of just assumed it would just... be. 

"Uhhhh, yea." Daryl confirmed through the curtain of his hair.

"C'mon, you think we didn't know?" Lydia snickered, looking at Daryl. He cleared his throat and gathered up his mostly clean plate before reaching in front of Carol for hers, empty now as well.

"Know what?" RJ asked. 

"You done?" He asked, very obviously mortified beyond words and avoiding the questions the lobbed at them in succession. He evacuated the table scene for the sink with haste. Carol couldn't help but laugh a bit, but she could feel her cheeks grow warm. She stifled her quiet laugh with the back of her hand. 

"Ohhhh!" Judith exclaimed, connecting the dots.

"Y'all got class. Better git." Daryl said, indicating be was finally done with the conversation.

"I wanna know!" RJ complained. Carol shushed him benignly, swallowing her mirth and shaking her head at the girls. She started collecting other empty plates and used silverware from the children, urging them to get a move on so they could make their way down to the town hall for their group study. 

"Do you want to walk them there? " she inquired to Lydia, "You can stop at the bazaar before you come back and drop off those cookies and walnut bars I made yesterday. It would save me a stop." 

"I can do that," the teen agreed as she stood up from her seat. Carol thanked her. She had a full day ahead of her and making one more stop at the bazaar where she'd get cornered or held up by well-intentioned people making timeworn chit-chat. She'd be able to join Maggie and Aaron straight away and get down to figuring out how to continue plans for getting things back together. 

It took a few minutes to get everything straightened up and shoo the kids out the door. Missing mittens need tracked down and played needed washed and put away. But once they were off, Carol gathered up her knife and her coat in the hall. She sensed Daryl enter the room behind, his aura radiating from alongside the staircase behind her. She turned as she did up the buttons on her oversized ochre coat, giving him an easy smile. He picked at his cuticles, right arm rested upon the handrail. It was obvious he wanted to speak, so she waited until he was ready. She'd learned a long time ago that you couldn't poke our prod Daryl Dixon into saying what was on his mind. He had to roll it over and over again in his head until he was ready to let those thoughts out into the universe.

"M'sorry," he mumbled, as the sounds of his nails meeting and scraping against each other mingled with the ticking clock behind him. Her brow furrowed. The current topic of discussion eluded her. 

"What for?" She worried. His avoidant eyes met hers before flitting away again as he featured vaguely over his left shoulder, maybe towards the kitchen. Maybe towards nothing. 

"That got weird. With the kids," he expounded. She offered him a sympathetic grin as she closed the gap between them. 

"Well," she goaded, reaching out to do up on of the top buttons on his shirt that he'd forgotten to do up when he'd gotten dressed at their bedside this morning, "Don't make it weird." 

"Shut up," he smiled shyly, eyes rolling away as he exhaled, relief audible on that puff of air that hit her neck. Her delicate hands found his face and she brought her lips to meet his briefly by raising up onto her booted tip toes. 

"Get outta here," he growled playfully breaking their kiss. She turned to the door feeling light as a leaf swept up in a swirl of autumnal breeze. 

"Don't destroy the house!" she mocked, not turning around as she turned the door handle.

"No promises," His grizzled voice squeezed through the slit between the door and its jamb as she closed it behind her. She tried to quell her simper with a tightness to her lips, but it wasn't much use. She tugged the collar of her coat up to protect her chin and neck from the frosty air. And maybe to keep her obviously fluttering heart beat from betraying itself to her neighbors, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, babies. Idunno how or why this just flew out out my brain as quickly as it did. Apologies I'd it's crap. Drop me a line. Or two.  
> Or ten?!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this written, friends. I intended it to be up a long time ago and to be a longer read.
> 
> BUT HERE WE ARE.
> 
> In this chapter, Daryl "takes the day off" to get some shit done around the house. The next chapter will probably finish this story out and be Carol's POV. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Leave me some love.

The hot water felt good on his war worn bones and muscles. Thankfully, he hadn't seen much in the way of injury since the year long conflict with Lydia's mother and her insane cult. But these cold mornings sometimes reminded him just how hard he'd pushed his body over his lifetime and especially over the last decade. While his mind and heart had healed over some in the last few years, his joints and bones had all but been pulverized into dust. Standing now under the showerhead, he could feel each drop pummeling into the skin on the back of his neck and he stretched and rolled his shoulders to get them to loosen as much as he could.

It was nice to be able to shower regularly. Real nice. It was a luxury he'd not ever really had, even before. There were even a few years when he was young where, after the water had been turned off and on enough times, that his father had either decided it wasn't worth the hassle to have it turned back on after or had just figured he'd stop pretending he'd cared. Daryl found himself bathing down in the crick long before the dead came back to walk the earth. After a while, bathing regularly just didn't seemed all that necessary, especially in the times when they ended up on the road.

He watched the clear warmth as it wrapped around his torso, dragged downward by gravity to his legs, and escaped to the drain at his feet. His mind floated to the last time he found himself noticing the water's counterclockwise dance around the drain. The kids had gone to bed and he'd slipped into the already steamy bathroom, shucking his clothing before sliding under the gentle deluge behind her, mindful of the slick floor and the drain so as to not turn this into a injurious folly. He enveloped her like the water had, snaking around her middle and down...

"Daryl? I'm back!" he heard Lydia's voice carry up the stairs and through the bathroom door. His eyes snapped open.

"YEAH!?" he choked out in surprise, a bit too loudly and mishearing what she'd said. He was feeling very much like he'd been caught red handed. He listened for a moment to ensure she hadn't continued calling up to him. Exhaling, his huff sprayed water off his vibrating lips as he reached to turn the faucet off, soap and suds long rinsed away by the spray of fresh water.

He dressed in freshly laundered clothes and hung his soggy towel up on the back of the door before stepping over Dog, who'd valiantly guarded the bathroom while Daryl had been indisposed. He jogged down the stairs, rounding the corner to find Lydia sitting on the window sill in the living room. The kid looked a bit distant to him, but he figured she was just doing what kids tended to do; drift off into a daydream. 

"Hey," he grunted, "You ready? I gotta pack up some stuff, first, but it'll only take me a few minutes."

She nodded wordlessly, and her expression struck him as off. He figured she'd be a bit more enthusiastic about getting her own room. He paused, stopping himself before he could turn back to head down the stairs to his old room. 

"S'mthin' up?" he asked. He could feel the concern, audible as his voice carried stood the quiet room. She turned back to him, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile. 

"Nah," She fibbed, rising off the built-in upholstered bench. Her head hung, long brown hair curtaining her features. He was familiar with that move. Something most definitely was up.

"Hey," he probed, fixing her with a slight nod and a look. She slowed to a stop in front of him, looking up from her feet with reluctance. He raised his eyebrows at her, searching for a hint of what might be troubling the girl. She sighed.

"It doesn't that my mom is dead and the Whispers are gone. Some of the people here are never gonna accept me. I get it. It just sucks."

His blood began to boil immediately. People needed to give this shit up and let it go. The kid wasn't going anywhere.

"Somebody say s'mthin' to ya? Who wa-"

"It's fine. Negan heard it and said something," She countered. He felt himself bristle at the name, still not used to the idea that the allegedly reformed murderer was now able to roam the community, free and easy. 

"And you need to get over THAT, too," she said, fixing him with a half-hearted glare, "You don't get to be pissed at people for giving me shit when you still look at him the way you do."

The girl, young as she was and as shit a life she'd had up until now, had a better grasp of life and humanity's little foibles than most adults. She was never afraid to call someone, including him, out on their bullshit or hypocrisies. He stood there before her for a moment, wanting to snap back at her, but the argument had been had a dozen times, the kid was already rightfully upset about the ongoing bullying she was receiving, and he wasn't gonna let this ruin the day. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, he knew she had a point. Negan had stepped up in a big way.

... But there are some things that are just unforgivable. He and Maggie had recently been confiding in each other about their shared trauma in regards to Negan. And all the reassurances of apologies did nothing to help. Shit just was the way it was. He didn't know if he'd ever possess the grace needed to forgive Negan. It was asking a lot. For Lydia's sake, he'd been trying desperately to keep a damn lid on it, because much to his chagrin, she'd formed some bond with the asshole.

Today wasn't the day to butt heads about this, though. He was bound and determined to keep this a good day for the both of them. He dipped his head in a sort of surrender before looking back up to the kid. 

"Fair's fair," he allowed, literally biting his lip as he spoke. He reached out to gently pat the girl's shoulder, reassuringly. "Imma find out who's sayin' this shit to ya, though, one way or another, and we're gonna have words."

Lydia relented her defensive posture, rolling her eyes but relaxing under his protective encouragement. Daryl nodded in the direction of the stairs. 

"C'mon, let's get to work."

"Okay, now... Tilt it to the right. No, the rig- MY right. Yeah, just guide it. I got the weight." 

"Why don't we just throw it over the railing?" Lydia asked, breathlessly.

"We ain't tossin' no mattress down two flights of stairs," Daryl huffed. Maybe a few years ago he might have done it, but now... 

He didn't know if it was because he'd spent all last night and this morning rolling around in bed with Carol, if it was because he'd already made what seemed like a thousand trips up and down all three floors of the house, or if he was experiencing some damn age related exhaustion, but moving Lydia's mattress down to the basement was proving more difficult than he'd anticipated. Thankfully, this was the final piece of furniture that needed relocated. But the mattress was older and floppy and it's bonelessness was making it difficult to heft and keep steady. He could fight off a sizeable group of walkers with one hand tied behind his back but his ass was currently being kicked by a goddamn mattress. 

They pushed and pulled the sagging bedding all the way down both sets of steps eventually. In another half hour the bed frame was together and Lydia had set to dressing the bed in fresh sheets. He was about to turn to announce that he was intending on leaving to sort some of his own thing out upstairs when he turned to notice that the girl, again, seemed upset or lost in thought over something. Having a teenager around was proving to be a bit exhausting.

"You good?" He asked, pushing a book into an empty spot on her new bookshelf. She startled a bit, the low rumble of his voice pulling her from her thoughts. 

"Yeah, I just-" she began, shaking her head a bit, "...I just realized I've never had my own room. Or even slept somewhere without someone else around."

"Don't be tellin' me you're havin' second thoughts about bein' down here now that we moved everything?" He snorted, half joking. She smiled with a soft sadness, shaking her head at him.

"No, it's just..." 

" S'different. I know. " he nodded. She met him with eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.

"Yeah."

He moved to sit on the bed, opposite from her, taking care not to rumple the sheets she was in the middle of putting on too much. From his hunched seating position, he looked down upon his boot clad feet, silently considering them and rolling a memory over in his head before he was able to produce a cohesive version of it.

"I told you 'bout my brother, right?" 

"Merle? Yeah, you and Carol told me about him a few times. He sounded like an asshole."

He snorted at that. Genuinely finding humor in her delivery and in the fact that he knew Merle, himself, would have found it funny. 

"Yeah, biggest asshole there ever was," he allowed with a rueful grin as he began picking at his cuticles, "We was dirt poor growin' up. Well, always. We was always poor. But we shared a room when we was little kids. Even a bed when we was real little cuz nobody had money for a bed for each of us. He was there, every night when I went to sleep. You get used to that."

He paused for a moment, checking over his shoulder to make sure the now silent teen was even still there. She glanced back over at him, her lips pulled tight, into a thin line. He turned away again. Even now, all these years later, he still found it hard to look someone in the eye when he talked about his shameful, violent, impoverished childhood. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"Merle was... Maybe 13? When he ran off the first time. Maybe. I woulda been 7 or 8, I think... I 'member that first night. Room empty. Didn't know where he was. Our Dad kicked his ass, night before, for one reason or another. We was both up cryin' all night. Scared... My brother... He was an asshole. Beat me up, broke my stuff every chance he got... But just, not havin' him in that room with me. Sat up all night, too, cryin', watchin' the lights from the cars up on the road cast shadows on the wall. Was more scared of not havin' him there than I ever was of my Dad beating' on us. I don't think I slept for a week..."

He sucked in a breath and turned around almost all the way, now. Her lips pulled to one side, offering him an apologetic, empathetic grimace. 

"We ain't far. We're all just upstairs. An' you ain't gotta stay down here if you ain't comfortable. Don't think that for a second." He said adamantly but gently. She looked over at him, the tight, wincing expression she'd had giving way to a soft, accepting smile.

"Okay," she sighed. He nodded to himself, rising up off the bed and heading for the door to allow her some space so she could work on getting her new room put together the way she wanted it. He got to the door and suddenly felt compelled to add something. 

"Yer a good kid. You deserve yer own space... Keep Dog down here with ya tonight. See how it feels. You wanna come back upstairs, eventually, I'll help ya move it again. Just say the word."

The broken little boy in him damn near did a backflip in hearing that small bit of validation offered to the girl. By her expression, she was almost suppressing some acrobatics of her own. He knew that with the life she'd had, genuine praise or affection had been something she'd rarely, if ever, experienced. She really was a good kid, he may as well remind her of it. Her smile was big, despite her attempt to hide it. 

"Thanks, Daryl."

He nodded at her, lip pinched in his incisors, before dipping his head and turning to exit his former bedroom. He paused just on the other side of the door, exhaling. Baring his soul, while it was becoming easier, still knocked him on his ass. If this world wasn't gonna put him in an early grave, bringing these kids up would.

He scrubbed at the scruff upon his chin as he ascended the stairs. The clock in the hall began to announce the hour with its deep, stirring chime. Moving the furniture had taken all morning. It was time for him to go grab Judith and RJ from their class. At the abrupt realization, he turned towards the door and called loudly down to Lydia to let her know he was heading out. 

"You wanna start lunch?!" he asked, straining to hear her reply through the floor. He heard the door open and a flurry of footsteps climbing the stairs as he pulled on his coat. He turned to see an incredulous Lydia gawking at him. 

"Seriously?" she asked. He paused, confused before simply nodding.

"You guys have never let me cook by myself."

" ... Ain't hard. You been doin' fine. "

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

"Y'ain't gotta, just figured ya like to an' you'd wanna pract-"

"No, no! I want to," the girl smiled. The corner of his mouth twitched at her excitement and he reached for the door. 

"Be back," He declared, stepping around an overly excited, whining canine. He pulled the door shut behind him and he and Dog headed out into the wintery mix of sleet that had begun to coat their little slice of the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Carol has something she needs Daryl to hear, but she's terrified of the outcome.

"So we agree, then?" Maggie asked as she leaned against the door jam. She looked between Aaron and her, arms crossed over her chest. Aaron nodded gravely.

"Yeah," Carol breathed. She'd just broken the news to them and they had met to decide what to do. There needed to be a plan of action. Most of all, she need to figure out how to tell Daryl about the big secret Judith had been keeping.

"We can't have anyone go out there. Not with a cold trail. Not even Daryl will be able to find her now. It's been months." Aaron reasoned. She knew. She understood. Now more than ever, she didn't want anyone, especially Daryl, going off and chasing after people. If Michonne went after Rick, she went with good reason.

"She's better out there than Daryl, even, anyway," Carol agreed, "She and Andrea were alone for almost a year at the beginning. Before that, even."

Maggie nodded at her.

"Maybe once we get a few more things figured out about the rebuild and moving some people around, we can figure something out, but it's not the time. Especially not with the winter about to bare down on us the way it seems like it wants to."

Carol rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes to the stress headache she could feel creeping into her temples.

"How am I going to convince him not to go?" she sighed.

"Don't tell him," Maggie offered. Carol shook her head and pursed her lips in gentle disagreement.

"No, I can't hide anything from him anymore. Not after everything. He deserves to know, anyway."

Maggie answered with her crooked, sad smile and a nod of understanding.

"You know that he's going to be more conflicted than you are." Aaron warned.

"Don't I know it." Carol rolled her eyes towards him, jokingly, an attempt at dissipating the heavy tone to their discussion. It worked well enough, earning a small laugh from both of her friends. She sucked in another breath and gathered her coat up, shoving her arms through it and pulling it around herself. Aaron followed suit. Gracie had been spending the evenings at their house while he was out at meetings or running errands.

"Come on, I'll walk you home." Aaron offered. Maggie rubbed Carol's upper arm in an attempt to comfort and encourage her as she passed through the door into the evening chill, Aaron just behind her.

"I'll see you two tomorrow," Maggie called before she closed the door on the cold.

The streets were mostly empty. It was getting dark earlier. That in combination with the stinging sleet that had been hissing as it hit off every surface, on and off, all day had caused everyone to make haste when retreating into their homes this evening. The wet pavement glowed with the reflection from the overhead lamps, sparsely lining the road, lighting the short distance to the house.

She was exhausted from her day. She'd been cloistered away with most of the other members of the council all day. Het being there was especially important since Daryl had decided to take a bit of a break from the council, lately. She'd been acting as his proxy in addition to her own voting power. The agenda had read long and with the exception of a short break to head to the main gates to welcome a lone survivor seeking refuge from the world outside the walls, which was another matter that needed discussed, they'd been there from almost sun up until well past sundown. Repairs, community mediation, rations, spring farming blueprints, expansion, this new community that Stephanie was from, funerary services... And then, once most of the council had left, Carol had brought up Judith's little revelation about Rick, Michonne, and why they'd had nothing but radio silence on her end of the walkie for weeks and weeks now. Judith had dropped that bomb last night as Carol was braiding the girl's hair before bed. And for obvious reasons, it had knocked her for a bit of a loop. But it had gotten lost in the physical bliss that had resulted in Daryl joining her for bed and stayed kept at bay by the emotional bliss brought on by the morning's family breakfast.

"I don't think you should worry about this half as much as you are." Aaron piped up in that warm, optimistic way he had. She half rolled her eyes over in his direction. And he fixed her with a point look, softened some by his gentle smile and shrug. "Something's changed with him, lately. He's... Settled. He barely goes out anymore, except to hunt, and even then he takes someone with him and never goes that far. He's always back right when he says he will be. He's at home with the kids more than anything and you two-"

Aaron stopped dead in his tracks.

Well, shit. The jig was up.

She didn't make a move to turn around. She just waited. For all she knew, he'd stopped to tie his shoes. She almost offered to help so he wouldn't have to struggle to tie it with a single hand. But, she knew better. Normally, she had an incredible poker face, but she sighed despite herself.

"Carol..."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. No such luck, apparently.

"If you haven't noticed, neither of us have ever been the type to make big announcements," she said in a frank, single tone a she turned back to face him. Aaron looked very much the part of the cat that got the canary.

"You want to enjoy it for a while before everyone finds out. I totally get it," he reasoned. She half-heartedly glared at him and he chuckled as he began to walk again. She turned as he caught up, happy to get home and end this conversation.

"I just- Wow. FINALLY." He laughed finally.

"What do you mean, 'finally'?" She asked.

"Oh, come on, Carol. Everyone knows you've both been in love with each other for years. YEARS. Before I'd met you. Maggie and Glenn, years ago obviously, used to tell me stories about you both making eyes at each other even when you were all holed up on her father's farm."

"Making eyes!" she scoffed, trying to brush off the accusations. But she knew she'd been in love with him, even back then. But this was news. She had no idea she'd been that transparent. And she was having a hard time coping with how utterly oblivious both she and Daryl had been. As happy as she was now, she'd always feel a bitter pang of regret for all that time they could have had together, had at least one of them taken the leap they recently had.

She realized that she'd not said anything for quite a while only because she'd looked up and suddenly realized they were right in front of their Brownstone. She looked up the steps and then looked to Aaron. He looked a mix of smug and contrite. She sighed, turning to walk up the stairs, Aaron following behind.

Upon turning the knob she was greeted with a scene of absolute chaos. There stood Daryl, halfway down the hall, patches of his dark wardrobe dusted with what looked to be flour. Most of his hair and face white with it as well. RJ was wrapped like a boa constrictor around the man's right leg, Gracie tucked under his right arm like a burlap sack, Judith on piggyback, and a good dish towel, one end in his left hand while the other end pulled was being yanked on by Dog. Lydia's clothing also had patches of flour on it. She was doubled over in stitches, her back to the living room. She blinked at the sight. She felt Aaron close the door behind them, cutting off the chill from the outside and heard him try to stifle a guffaw.

"Busy day?" She asked, announcing her presence. They all froze and immediately turned to face the door. The dish rag dropped from Dog's mouth and he sat at attention.

"Dad!" Gracie exclaimed as she smiled from ear to ear while squirming out of Daryl's grasp. Wound up and getting bigger than she realized, she plowed into her father's side, conjures small "oof" out of him. Daryl shook his head roughly as he set Judith down, sending a puff of flour skyward.

"I thought I asked you v not to burn the house down?" She asked as she shucked her coat and hung it by the door.

"Ain't nobody on fire," Daryl shrugged innocently as he bent to pull RJ off his leg and shoo him in her direction. "We was just cleaning up."

"I see that!" Carol exclaimed, dipping a bit too hug RJ, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Daryl snorted and swiped the drooly dish rag off the floor.

" And that's our cue to make a quick exit! Time to get you home and make dinner, " Aaron said as he reached for Gracie's coat.

"I already ate, Dad. Daryl and Lydia made noodles." Gracie explained.

"You hungry?" Daryl asked, striding over, "There's plenty. If you ain't gonna stay, at least take some home."

" I could be talked into letting you do the cleaning, tonight." Aaron joked as he began taking off his own coat.

"How bad is it in there?" Carol laughed.

"Ain't that bad. I'll clean up while y'all eat." He shrugged, brushing off some of the flour. Aaron reached over with his good arm and helped brush a bit off his shoulder.

"And we can discuss why you're hiding such good news from your friends while you straighten up." Aaron fixed Daryl with a devious smile. Daryl stilled and looked between him and Carol. Carol sighed. Her stomach churned for a moment while she watched the gears turn in Daryl's head. His eyes fell to the taller man's face once more before he simply grunted his realization and very mild irritation. Aaron's smile grew as he followed Daryl into the living room.

"I said nothing!" She called as she kicked her boots off before trailing the two men.

****

The dishes had been done. The granite counters had been wiped down. Leftovers were packed away. They said goodnight to Aaron and Gracie before letting Dog out for his last, quick stroll around the neighborhood.

Lights had been turned out. Baths were drawn. Stories read.

Dog came back in and Daryl ushered him downstairs to Lydia's new room as Carol finished making a cup of tea to bring upstairs with her. He had told Carol he wanted to check on her prior to heading up to their room.

Their room.

There was a small childlike giddiness that crept into her chest when she thought about it that way. But as she sat on the edge of their shared bed and brushed out her long, silver waves, that feeling was trod on by the anxiety that was building in her chest. She had to tell Daryl about Rick and Michonne, but she was scared to death that he'd take off out that door the second she opened her mouth.

She heard his heavy boots approaching as he climbed the last landing outside their attic suite. As he entered, she managed to suppress her worry enough to poke at him with a chirpy jibe.

"I see the mess wasn't contained to just the kitchen." She smiled as she scooted to her side of the mattress. He stopped at the edge of the bed and looked around, taking in the boxes that he'd brought up from his former room earlier in the day.

"M'sorry," he sounded genuinely regretful as he removed his knife's sheath from his belt and laid it on the nightstand, "Rest'a the day got away from me."

"I'm fucking with you." She smiled softly, stretching her arms out towards him to welcome him into bed. That lit a bit of a fire under his ass, and he reached down and made quick work of removing his boots, socks, and his shirt. Dark denim the only thing left on him, he climbed onto the crisp sheets, meeting her lips for a passionate kiss before he even managed to sit down. He stole her breath with how deep, slow, and intense his lead was. After a moment she mustered all her willpower and broke away with a gasp and a breathy laugh. She knew if she didn't pull away now she'd end up with his head between her thighs and this very necessary conversation wouldn't be happening for a second night in a row.

He responded by finally lowering himself down into a comfortable position beside her, and gently ramming his head into the crook of her neck like a big cat, nuzzling at its mate. He melted into her side and she swallowed thickly, attempting to rid her voice of lust before attempting to open her mouth.

He lapped at her neck. This wasn't helping. She ran her fingers up the back of his neck and into his mess of dark, slowly greying hair, sending another puff of flour into the air. She stifled a giggle and he looked up, puzzled. She ruffled his mop to send another dusting out of his hair for him to see.

"I can go shower," He offered, panting. She smiled tenderly and shook her head, reaching out to guide him down to lay his head upon her lap so she could better card through his long, messy hair. A contented sigh left his chest after a silent moment and she felt him relax into her. That feeling made her heart ache. She knew this was her chance to bring it up.

"I need to tell you something, Daryl." She said. She felt her voice quiver. He felt it, too. He immediately turned onto his back to look up at her.

"S'wrong?" he mumbled looking concerned.

She swallowed trying to force a smile onto her face.

"It's good news," she offered. And it was. That wasn't a lie. Rick and Michonne were likely alive and out there somewhere. But as wonderful as that need was didn't mean she wasn't terrified to deliver it. Terrified to see Daryl walk through the gates to give those ghosts chase. Terrified that this dream she'd been living in for the last few weeks wasn't going to come to a catastrophic end in the blink of an eye.

He didn't by it. She could tell by his expression. He see the mist forming at her eyes and was visibly calling her on her shit. Her mouth flattened into a thin line before she began to speak.

"Last night," she began, "I was getting Judith ready for bed and she told me something."

Daryl blinked up at her urging her on.

"She told me... That Michonne went out of range on purpose. She wasn't just helping some people that she ran into. That she found something out there that lead her to believe that..."

She struggled to get it out. Her voice trembled more. Her distress was obvious and it caused him to pull away so he could raise his weight off the bed and onto his elbows.

"That what?"

She smiled sadly. It WAS good news, after all.

"...Rick's alive." She whispered. She watched as his eyes grew wide.

"W-what?" his voice began to shake as well. She could only nod as she reached for his face to comfort him. His breath picked up and there was a shrill pant to it like he was on the verge of a panic attack. It was understandable. He'd spent the better part of a decade alone in the forest coming up empty handed in his search for the man. She tried to comfort him but seeing him in such a state caused her a large amount of distress as well.

"Where are they?" He asked, gasping. She shook her head.

" I don't know. Michonne didn't tell her. I don't think she knows, either, honestly. That's probably why we haven't heard anything. "

Daryl looked crestfallen. He looked confused. He looked hopeful. By mostly he looked frantic. He pulled out of her arms and stood by the side of the bed and began to pace.

"Why didn't the kid tell us? Wh-why didn't Michonne tell us?"

" We were dealing with the Whispers. We both know we didn't need anything else on our plates. " she explained as she wiped at the moisture in her eyes. She continued to watch him pace like a caged animal like he tended to do when he was particularly stressed. She said nothing, figuring it may be best to let him go through the motions rather than poking and prodding at him.

Eventually, he stilled, sinking back to the bed looking stricken and a bit defeated. She moved to join him at the edge of the bed wrapping herself around his right bicep but not engaging him further. They sat silently for a while, both staring at the wall next to the door to the room. Ten to fifteen minuets must have passed before she even considered making a sound. She could feel tears stinging at her eyes again as she ventured opening her mouth.

"I understand... If you feel like you need to leave. I get that. But I want you to know that I don't want you to go," she wept quietly. He turned to her immediately, searching her eyes for something. She felt exposed. His expression, for the first time in a long time, was unreadable. To her, he'd been an open book for years. It was a jarring and alien feeling to not know what he was thinking in that moment.

Without warning, he rushed forward, lips crashing desperately into her own. This kiss was sorrowful and yearning. She may not have been able to read his expression a moment ago, but what he had been feeling translated perfectly to her via that kiss. When she broke away, tearfully, she nodded in silent understanding.

"I ain't ever leavin' you, Carol." He breathed around his own emotion, "Ever."

She felt relief rush over her like a warm summer rain and with it, it took all her strength, leaving her muscles tired and she collapsed against his chest. He enveloped her, pressing his lips to her crown.

"I was so afraid you'd just... You'd rush out the door and you'd just be gone. Chasing after them." She shuddered. She felt him shake his head against her own before he pulled her up so he could, presumably look at her.

"All that time I spent out there and ain't found nothin'... I don't want Michonne out there either, but... I got you now. An' I ain't leavin' you. 'Specially not with all these kids that need lookin' after. She left 'em with us for a reason an' I ain't gonna walk out on them, either. An' Lydia got people that aren't psychos or assholes around her for the first time in her life. I ain't gonna pull the rug out from under her now."

Carol smiled, nodding at him. She watched him roughly swipe at his nose with his wrist.

"They're comin' back. They just are. An' me n' you'll be waitin' here for them with these kids," he assured her. He looked back at the pillows behind her and nodded to them, encouraging her to lie back, she complied, stretching out and getting comfortable. He leaned over and turned the light on her side table off and darkness rushed into the space, consuming the room. She felt the bed shift under his weight as he made his way over to her and as he tucked her into his side, wrapping himself around her, she realized that she'd not felt as safe, not once I her life, as she did I this moment.

"I love you, Daryl." She whispered into the lightless void that was their bedroom. He sniffed, moisture still obvious in his sinuses and voice before answering.

"I love you, too. Let's get to sleep. We gotta do it all again, tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it, my loves. Sorry this chapter took a bit. I feel like this isn't my best for some reason. Like something in my characterization of both of them is, errr... Off. At least it feels inconsistent for how I usually write them. I can't place it, though. Idk. I can't describe it. If you have any suggestions or can pinpoint those inconsistencies, please let me know. I'd like to be more aware of them for my next adventure.
> 
> ANYWaaaayyyy. Let me know how you like it. And thank you all for reading !

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something out. This may become another short series, but for now it's some (what *I* feel like, anyway) pretty in character fluff and yummy, happy goodness... Which, let's be honest, these two deserve a little bit of after a decade of chasing each other. Idk, though. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, this is two lovely people enjoying each other. Sorry it's so short, but I felt that was a nice place to end it. 
> 
> How'd I do, babies?! Lemme know! Thanks so much for reading!!!


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